


Whispers

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All plans should be flexible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers

Sam can't catch a breath that doesn't end in some sort of noise of pain, a scream, a groan, a wet hack of desperation. He's caught, pinned, spread open and tied down on a roughly constructed altar, the dirty brown of old blood.

Dean doesn't know where he is, which means Castiel doesn’t know where he is. He's fairly sure he's going to be ripped apart from the inside out in this room. By the dead eyed witches that are chanting along the walls in low flat voices. He's not expecting rescue, he can barely see during the parts where he's conscious let alone try and pull himself free. There's no hope of him rescuing himself.

Until the pain is overwhelmed by light and everything is suddenly cold and he's suffocating. Someone is screaming that isn't him, one of the bad guys. He's almost certain it's one of the bad guys.

Just as suddenly Sam can breathe again. He's left staring at the ceiling, dizzy and suddenly strange and cold inside. It slides all the way through him, presses and swells, alien and unstoppable. The pain recedes wherever it touches.

Sam's fingers twitch uselessly at his side.

A hand slides over his forehead, large and too warm. It slides into his hair, holds him still and someone's speaking, quiet low tones that aren't in English. They melt together and leave the coldness somehow stiller, less invasive.

He expects Dean or Castiel, somehow, from somewhere. His brother has a habit of ending up places he shouldn't be.

But it's Lucifer's hands that draw him up off of the altar. Lucifer that steadies him while he relearns how to breathe, how to stand and focus on the world. Instead of the screaming burning pain his head feels too heavy, tight and cold and full of strange whispers.

He tries to pull away and finds out he's not even capable of standing on his own. It's a choice between relaxing into Lucifer's grip or smashing into the floor. He makes the choice. he's not happy with it, but he makes it.

"What the hell is wrong with my head," Sam says roughly, through a throat that feels like it's been carved open.

Lucifer twists his head far enough that Sam catches the edge of his expression and for fraction of a second there's something soft there, something uncertain and new.

"Lucifer?" Sam voice shakes a more than a little.

"It was necessary," Lucifer says smoothly.

"That's not an answer," Sam snaps and pulls out of his hands. Lucifer lets him, fingers going slack where they were curled round his arms.

"They were unmaking you and you had no tethers to this plane left," Lucifer explains. Like he expects him to understand.

Sam rubs a hand over his forehead, tries to push back that cold pressure before it threatens to freeze his damn eyeballs out.

"It's like someone poured ice in there, and it's expanding to fill everywhere up." It feels cold and dead and...heavy. Sam doesn't know what it is but it's _wrong_. "Jesus, what did you do to me, what is it?"

"If I hadn't done it you would have been burned into nothingness," Lucifer tells him, voice smooth and calm. He's leading him, steering him gently towards the stairs that lead up and out of the house.

Sam pulls at his arm until Lucifer stops.

"What's in my head?" he demands.

Lucifer watches him slowly for a long second, like he knows Sam won't like the answer.

"I am."

Sam takes a jerky step back.

"I never said yes," he says roughly, somewhere between fury and panic. "I never gave you permission."

"And I have taken nothing. It's not a possession," Lucifer tells him, slowly but firmly.

"Then what is it?"

"It's a connection, I haven't invaded you physically."

"There's not a whole lot of difference," Sam presses a hand across his eyes, trying to push the ache away. "It's still a violation."

"I could you leave you back on the altar, an empty shell, if you'd rather."

"And this is a good way to influence me right?" Sam says fiercely, shakily. "To force your way into my head and make me say yes to you."

Lucifer looks away briefly, when he looks back there's a frown where there wasn't one before.

"This makes my using you as a vessel...problematic," he says quietly and there's a tightness under the words.

Sam goes very still. "What do you mean?"

Lucifer sighs out a breath and says nothing, seems unwilling to explain. There's a low fierce whispering somewhere just behind Sam's left eye and he can't help but try and catch hold of it.

"It would be very unwise to try that." Lucifer's voice is soft, quiet warning. "I don't think in any way you would understand, Sam."

"I can hear you," Sam says, more surprised than he intends to show.

"Yes." Lucifer seems strangely uncertain and it throws Sam for a second, leaves him confused. Listening to the soft hush of whispers and thinks maybe he catches the floating edge of his name in that cold rush


End file.
